


Bring Back What Once was Mine

by wolfhorse



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 15:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfhorse/pseuds/wolfhorse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am only here for my family's well-being, not for the Capitol's entertainment. Johanna-centric, MultiPair</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Prologue

Contrary to popular belief, I loved my family.

I still love them, really, even if they aren't with me anymore.

I wasn't always cold-hearted. Before the Games, I was… young. I was naïve and full of dangerous ambitions—ambitions that would have gotten me killed long ago had the Capitol known of them. I was happy, even though I lived in squalor. District 7 was always one of the poorer districts, despite being the only one that produced lumber, an export in high demand of the Capitol.

Why we did not receive special treatment from them, I will never know. Many of our citizens (the mayor included) were loyal to them and to them only, and had their best interests at heart. It led to… unfortunate difficulties for the rest of us.

But I was happy. I had my family. I had the forest, where I would climb high into the trees and listen to the mockingjays sing throughout the day and watch the workers cut down the trees for the mill. I had my axes. I had safety in the form of a small house that my mother's father had built for us. I had my home.

President Snow took them all away from me. 

+

I remember every detail of my Reaping Day.

The three Reaping Days that came before, I have forgotten. I cannot even remember the first time I stood in the crowd, listening as two tributes were chosen and taken away forever. I am not sure if they were my friends, or if I had ever seen them before. Maybe it was the nerves that made me forget their faces, their cries, maybe it was my brain blocking out the horrors I was sure they'd endure, and therefore erasing them from my life so I would not suffer with them; I will never know.

But I remember the day they called my name.

The Peacekeepers were in full force that day. There were hundreds of them buzzing around, their expressions blank behind their protective masks. I had always wondered before if they were unbearably hot in their stark white outfits thick with padding (in case a crazed district citizen decided to attack, I'm sure), but now, I find I wish they would suffocate inside them.

There were others, non-Peacekeepers; Capitol workers. They set up the cameras around the square situated in front of the Justice Building. The stage in front of the massive concrete building was cleaned and decorated with a banner of the Panem seal, as well as chairs for the mayor, the district escort, and the previous winners of the Games for our district.

I had gone to the forest one last time to listen to the mockingjays. I watched them flit around in the trees, hopping from branch to branch, whistling to each other. I whistled to them myself once when I was younger, but I was too afraid to do so that day. There were too many Peacekeepers around and I did not want one to see me committing a traitorous act. My family had enough to worry about and me being arrested—and possibly killed—was not something I would have put them through. But seeing the mockingjays soothed my nerves somehow. Seeing the creatures that were never meant to exist was... invigorating. They had defied the Capitol. They were free, something I had always hoped to be one day.

I would be free. I would never stop fighting to be free.

My mother helped me dress for the Reaping, as she had always done with me and my siblings. My elder brother and sister had both passed eighteen, and were ineligible for the Reaping. I am not sure how they felt that day, watching me ready myself for the ceremony. I remember being terrified when I was younger and there was a possibility of them being chosen. I wonder if they were frightened for me.

My father kissed my cheek as he had done every morning since I could remember, and whispered, "I love you dearly, Johanna."

I had no time to respond before the bell rang in the square, signaling us to join the other citizens for the ceremony to begin.

My family took their places with the elder citizens of the district, and I pushed my way through the crowd to stand with the children of my age group. My finger was still bleeding from the needle the Capitol worker had pressed into it. Why did they need to take our blood? What did they do with it?

My thoughts were clouded by the time the Reaping had begun. I examined the stage as the huge screen lit up with the required Capitol video, explaining the reason behind the Games. There still wasn't reason enough, my father had said once when I was but seven years old. My mother had shushed him them, passing it off as a joke. I believed him though. I still do.

On the stage, I could see the district escort, a woman dressed in all blue with a sickly powdered face. I will never understand why someone would want to look so pale. It makes them seem ill.

My eyes moved across and I spotted the mayor and the two previous winners: Cinder Malus, an older man whose hair had grayed and face had wrinkled since the year he had won. I am almost positive he was insane, but I was never completely sure. The other winner—Blight Pome—was a recent winner, only a few years older than myself. He had been graced with good looks from birth, I am sure, and his days of living in wealth had only increased them.

My attention was grabbed by the woman in blue speaking again. She was about to announce the tributes for the year's Games.

As her hand reached for the glass orb that contained the names of all the females in our district ages twelve to eighteen, my heart began to pound. My stomach knotted. A strange feeling washed over me, something I had never felt before.

_Dread._

My palms became sweaty when she pulled out a folded piece of paper, flipped it open, and twittered, "Johanna Mason!"

_No._

I heard someone begin wailing behind me.

My legs had begun moving on their own. No one met my gaze as I made my way to the stage, alone, terrified. I did not turn back to look at the crowd. I did not want to face them. Why had no one volunteered for me? Did no one care? Did they believe I was old enough to fend for myself?

_I am only a child._

The male tribute, Citron Blackmon, was my age. He and I attended school together. He was strong, brave, powerful. I had seen him use an ax before, and he helped carry trees to the mill. He was no weakling. But when he joined me on the stage, I could feel him trembling as we shook hands.

The Peacekeepers led us to separate rooms. I was left alone for a few minutes, and then my family was shoved into the room, a gruff voice saying, "You have three minutes."

_Three minutes. That isn't enough. That isn't enough time to say everything I have ever needed to say. There will never be enough time._

My mother held me, sobbing. It was her that I had heard wailing before. "Johanna," she gasped, "please be strong for us."

"I will."

My father, teary-eyed, kissed the top of my head and squeezed me tightly. "I know you can win this. You are strong. Citron will protect you, I'm sure of it."

_He won't._

My brother and sister both told me how much they loved me. I was surprised to see any emotion at all. They had always been distant of me. Looking back, it was probably because they did not want to be close in case one of us was taken in the Reaping. They did not want to feel pain if they saw me die. They wanted to pass it off as another poor district child killed in the Games, something they could not control. Even so, Marilee, my sister, was in the midst of her goodbye when the Peacekeepers took them away.

No one else came to see me.

+

As soon as Citron and I were on the train bound for the Capitol, Blight began briefing us on what was to come. I quickly became distracted by all of the food in front of me, and Blight had to snap his fingers to turn my attention back to him as I shoved a piece of bread into my mouth.

Cinder laughed at Blight. "Let them eat, Blight. We can strategize later."

I smirked as Blight huffed like a petulant child. Citron was busy stuffing his face with every sort of food he could get his hands on. The district escort—Accalia Rivet—was absolutely horrified at our manners, I am sure, but she never said a word of it. She merely smiled politely at us and went over our schedule when we finished eating.

I do not remember most of what she said, as my mind became overwhelmed with the thought of going into the arena, of going to the Capitol. Where would we be fighting? Would it be a desert, like the year before? Or would it be the ruins of a city? I began hoping that it would be a forest, somewhere I could hide and forage and survive.

I started to regret eating first. We needed to strategize. Food could come later, when we were in the Capitol. I needed to know everything about the arena, of how to fight and how to kill people. I needed to listen to Cinder and Blight's stories of survival.

But before I was able to say anything, Cinder turned in for the night. Accalia excused herself a few minutes later, and before I knew it Citron was gone too.

Blight and I stared at each other.

"Do you think you can win?"

His question startled me. I found myself stumbling over my words, barely squeaking out, "What?" I regretted speaking. I sounded weak, vulnerable, something I was not.

But he seemed to pay my fumble no mind and repeated, "Do you think you can win?" He paused, adding, "Do you think that you will be able to kill people, to put on a show? That's all they really want."

He waited for my response, green eyes searching my face for any sort of emotion.

My face remained blank and I could only think of one reply, "I am only here for my family's well-being, not for the Capitol's entertainment."

Blight leaned back in his chair, looking out of the window at the passing blur of trees. "Then I'm afraid you won't be able to last long here, Johanna."


	2. The Capitol

I had never seen anything more stunning in my life. Of course, growing up, all I had to look at in the district were trees. They were beautiful, yes, but they were nothing like the Capitol.

Situated in what was formerly the Rocky Mountains, the Capitol buildings twinkled in the sunlight like stars in the night sky. The train guided us around a massive lake that was obviously manmade—only the Capitol could have created something so marvelous—and through a tunnel, where the doors opened out into a large station. People dressed in awfully bright clothes crowded Citron and I as we stepped out onto the platform.

Blight held us close, most likely for safety as those people kept getting nearer and nearer, refusing to release my arm when I attempted to step away from him. He was too close for comfort and I enjoyed my personal space. I did not want someone holding me down.

There were too many smells in the station. Perfumes, flowers, foods, all overwhelmed my senses. I couldn't breathe. Everyone was cheering for us—why? In a few days, we would most likely be dead. Why were they cheering?

My mind drifted back to the conversation Blight and I had had the night before. "Do you think that you can kill people, to put on a show?" he'd asked. "That's all they really want."

We had not spoken at all since then. Accalia had chattered on all day about the treatment we would receive once we reached the Capitol, and Blight had not come out of his room until we were just minutes away from arriving.

I did not care. The less I spoke to him, the better. I could not grow attached to these people. I needed to survive, to win, to come home to my family. I needed to get this over with so I could go home and be happy and never speak to them again. Of course, if I won, I would become a mentor… which meant I would take Cinder's place.

I did not want to think about being in the company of others for the rest of my days.

By the time we reached the elevator that would take us to our rooms, Blight had let go. Cinder was asking us how we felt. Citron answered for me: "Overwhelmed." Cinder laughed, and Blight remained silent.

The elevator ride was quick. The doors opened up to our floor and I was shocked yet again at the wealth of the Capitol.

Tables covered in food and drink beckoned me. The walls were decorated with flowers and the Panem seal, and the floor…

"What is that?"

Cinder looked down to where my gaze was pointed. "That? That, my dear Johanna, is a bear-skin rug." He grinned, leaning down to rub his hand on it. "Soft little bear." It was then I realized that yes, he was insane.

I didn't ask anything else about the rug, for fear of looking stupid. Why would they skin a bear and put its fur on the floor for us to walk on? In District 7, we used fur to keep ourselves warm. The Capitol way seemed… well, it seemed a little over-the-top, but then again, it was the Capitol, and I guess we district citizens were never meant to understand them. We were merely peasants in their eyes, something less than human. They were able to throw away things we considered luxuries while we scrounged and begged and bartered for our meals and personal belongings. I hated them for it. I could never say it out loud in the district though, and even when I thought about it I cringed. They could hear everything, I'm sure. Could they even hear my thoughts?

I decided not to dwell on it too long. Accalia grabbed our hands and guided us to our rooms, placed across the hall from each other, and said, "The Capitol is generous enough to give you your own rooms! You even have your own showers and you can look out of your windows and see the city! It really is wonderful of President Snow to give you these opportunities. I am so proud to call him my leader…"

I stopped listening to her as I stepped into my room. I did not care for her ramblings. I wanted to see for myself what Snow had "been so generous" to give us.

A large bed was positioned against one of the walls, a thick red blanket draped over the mattress. I ran my fingers over the fabric, pressing my hand against it to test the firmness of the bed. I was fascinated by how plush it was compared to my own bed in Seven. Of course, it was only a mattress placed on a small wooden frame with a thin blanket to cover me. This… this was much more astounding than mine.

The walls were painted a slightly less eye-popping red and the carpet matched. I fought the urge to slip my shoes off and rub my feet along the carpet.

The bathroom was astounding. I had never imagined in my wildest dreams such a magnificent shower. And all of the buttons… there were just too many of them, and I left it alone for the time being.

When I came back into the main bedroom, Blight stood in the doorway, watching me. That unnerved me. I prided myself in being able to hear others approach. "What?" I snapped.

He raised his eyebrows at my outburst but said nothing.

I huffed. "Why are you in here?"

Blight shrugged. "I was just wondering if you were hungry."

My stomach growled in response. I glanced down at it, feeling betrayed. Blight chuckled and my blood boiled at the sound, a blush forming in my cheeks. My head snapped down so I could stare at the carpet. When I recovered and finally looked back up, I realized my mentor was gone. I grew more frustrated. If I couldn't hear him come in and out of my room, how was I supposed to last in the arena?

I changed into a clean set of clothes and headed down the hallway leading back into the living and eating area in search of food. The others were already seated at the table. The only chair left, I noticed, was placed between Accalia and Blight. Someone had planned this. There was no way this happened by accident. Still, I kept my composure as I sat down. I did not want them viewing me as volatile, or worse—weak. I needed to stay strong like my mother told me.

The dinner was mostly just banter between Cinder and Accalia, but Citron joined in a few times to offer his thoughts. I focused on eating the lamb stew that one of the red-clad assistants placed in front of me. Cinder was polite and asked for my opinion on what I thought about the Capitol so far. I told him it was like nothing I had ever imagined—which was true, in a way, but I had never thought of the Capitol until I was summoned for the Games.

Accalia apparently loved my sentiment, because she went on and on about how everything here was made from the finest materials and we were the luckiest district because we were at just the right height to look out over the city without being too low or too high above everything. I tuned her out when she started talking about Snow again.

Dessert was a sort of pie—it was layered with chocolate and sweet crackers and cream. I will admit that it was the best thing about the food. I ate at least three servings of the treat. Cinder was amazed that a girl like me could eat so much.

After we finished eating, the Capitol servants collected our plates and silverware. I watched one of them intently—a female that appeared to be only a few years older than myself. Her light brown hair was pulled into a neat bun on top of her head, bound by a red ribbon. I suddenly became concerned by all of the red themed items in the Capitol. What was it supposed to represent?

As the girl finished gathering the platters in front of us, she glanced up at me, apparently noticing my stare.

Our eyes locked for the briefest of moments and I saw something strange pass through them—fear? Why would she be afraid of me? I touched my face out of instinct, trying to find something that might have startled her. There was nothing. The girl moved away from the table, hurrying after her partner. My eyes followed her out of the room.

Accalia swatted my arm gently, pulling my attention away from the girl in red. She glared at me. "You are not to have any sort of interaction with Avoxes, Johanna."

Avoxes?

"What?" I asked, confused. What did she mean? "I only looked at her—"

"She doesn't know, Accalia," Blight's voice filled my ears. "Leave her be."

I looked to him for any sort of explanation, but he was already leaving the table. Accalia sighed and patted my arm. "I apologize, darling. Just don't let it happen again."

Let what happen? What did I do wrong? I only looked at the girl. I said nothing to her.

But no one else said anything. Citron looked as confused as I was and Cinder was obviously going to be no help at all, considering I thought him to be insane. Accalia I couldn't speak to because—well, why would I? She was just another Capitol-faithful woman. I didn't trust her.

That left Blight.

And I really didn't like Blight.

+

Later on in the night, after I had showered—that was the biggest challenge; it took me at least ten minutes to get the right temperature and get it to stop spraying rose-scented water on me—and slipped into nightclothes, I found myself unable to sleep. I could only think of the red-clad servants and the fear in the girl's eyes when I looked at her.

Why was she afraid?

I tossed and turned for a while, and when I finally gave up on sleeping, I slipped out of the plush bed and stepped into the hallway.

I remained as quiet as possible as I tiptoed into the living area of our makeshift home. I could see no one sitting in the chairs or on the sofa, so I assumed I was alone—

"What are you doing?"

I wanted to kill him.

I turned around to face my younger mentor, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. "I should be asking you the same question," I said levelly.

The full moon helped light the room just a bit, and I could see him now. He was leaning against the wall next to the huge window that overlooked the Capitol. He was almost hidden by shadow; that's why I did not notice him at first. But now that my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, his face was more visible.

Blight cocked his head at my statement. "Well, I am your mentor. I've won the Games before." He shrugged, a movement I had grown to despise. "I can do whatever I want."

I gritted my teeth. That was the problem with victors. They thought they owned everything after winning the Games. "The only reason you won your Games is because you killed four of the tributes while they slept. That's cowardice." I remember it vividly: the first victor for District 7 in nearly forty years won when I was eleven. He hadn't even killed anyone else the entire time, just those four, and they were some of the weaker ones. The last tribute besides Blight died because he accidentally poisoned himself. Blight hid almost the entire time. Blight was a weak victor. He didn't deserve to win.

Blight laughed, "And what would be your strategy, exactly?" He pushed himself off the wall, started to walk toward me. "How do you plan on killing people? With your attitude? Because from what I've seen, that's the best you can do." He stopped when he was just inches away. His eyes had turned cold. "You have to do everything to survive in the arena. If that means killing people in their sleep, so be it."

I began to feel uncomfortable and shifted my weight. He was too close again—why was he always so close to me? But I stood my ground, refusing to look away. "I can do better than that. I can prove that I actually deserved to win."

His hand came up so fast that I hadn't even realized I had angered him until I was on the floor, rubbing my left cheek. He grabbed me by the shoulders, lifting me up, and hissed, "You have no idea what it's like in the arena, Johanna. There is no such thing as you deserve to win. As soon as they called your name, you lost. You will never win."

He dropped me, and I had to catch myself on a chair to keep from falling to the floor. Blight turned his back to me and began walking down the hall to his room. "Keep that in mind," he called over his shoulder.

I wanted to say that winning made him happy, that he had everything he had ever needed in life, everything that people in the districts would kill for, have killed for.

But he was gone. And somewhere, deep inside me, I had a horrible feeling that he was right.

I had already lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this was a filler chapter and I'm sorry. I'm just trying to build the characters a bit before I get into the action-y and romance-y parts. But I'll get to those parts soon, I promise.
> 
> Oh, and the dessert they were eating was chocolate eclair cake.


End file.
